


Shared Vision

by ImogenSmiley



Series: Reigisa [15]
Category: Free!
Genre: A sight they'd never seen before, Boys can cry, Canon Compliant, Character Focus, Competing together, Crying, Emotions, Established Hazuki Nagisa/Ryuugazaki Rei, Established Relationship, Free! Eternal Summer, Hurt/Comfort, Last Race, Last relay together, Let boys cry dammit, Looking at the relay from nationals, Lots of Crying, M/M, National competition, Nationals, Post-relay, Processing emotion, Reflecting on experience, Reflection, Rei focused, Rei's POV on the relay, Relay race, The Last Time, Writemas, relay, swimming together, writemas 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImogenSmiley/pseuds/ImogenSmiley
Summary: It was a sight they'd never seen before.
Relationships: Hazuki Nagisa/Ryuugazaki Rei
Series: Reigisa [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1531475
Kudos: 8





	Shared Vision

Rei hadn’t thought he would be so emotional. He was stood there at the poolside, hugging his best friends, chlorine stinging his eyes as it rolled down from his hair. He could barely see without his glasses, and would likely need Nagisa to drag him back to the locker room, just so he didn’t make a fool out of himself. But that didn’t matter.

While hundreds of people stared down at the poolside, the boys embraced, holding onto each other, and that one, single moment, for as long as they could. There were tears falling from all of their eyes as they embraced, their bodies shaking from the excess adrenaline, and the cold poolside. They shivered in each other’s arms, babbling nonsense about what they had experienced, and that now their relay was over, they had to accept that the summer, and everything that had led up to that competition had a tangible, physical meaning.

Amakata-sensei had said that getting funding for the club, until they qualified for nationals had been hard. They were all working to the best of their abilities, and it was only with Coach Sasabe’s support that they had gotten anywhere during the periods where they couldn’t use the pool. She had said that the reason it was so hard was because they had no evidence that the team was even good at what they were doing, they passed the prefectural competition by the skins of their teeth in the relay, and hadn’t qualified in any other events, and then, for the one event they were able to compete in, Rei’s decision to allow Rin to swim, had meant they were disqualified.

As much as the team had had many, valid reasons, for their actions, it really had put a strain on the school and their finance team, because handing those boys money was potentially just feeding them the chance to be disqualified again.

But none of that mattered anymore, they’d made it to Nationals, they were stood, freezing, beside the pool at Nationals, weeping over the end of the season. They hadn’t won, they weren’t even close, but that didn’t matter. This was the last time, and it was the first time Rei had seen it.

They’d shared a moment beneath the surface of the water, that only one other person might be able to understand, Rin Matsuoka. But, without him, the experience was inherently different. It was like they were being guided by something bigger, better, freer. They had something in those seconds under the water, united in their shared goal to achieve, and enjoy themselves. They saw the support of their teammates in one way, shape or form.

Rei knew what he’d seen, he’d seen penguins, swimming ahead of him, squawking in unison as they kicked their legs and propelled forward. Their calls sounded like his best friend; like his boyfriend. His voice was carried over all of the others, begging him to return to the poolside, quickly so they could finish this race, so they could win.

He’d made it and executed the most flawless exchange with Haruka-senpai that he had ever done, the second his fingertips hit the wall, Haruka-senpai was leaping off the starting block, his form as fantastic as it always was. But seeing him soar above him, like a bird, and then plunge beneath the surface of the water, like a dolphin was emotional. Rei couldn’t help but have his eyes well up, tears spilling over as Nagisa-kun pulled him out of the pool.

He’d hugged his boyfriend with so much urgency, a quick embrace but much needed, he’d whispered into the shorter boy’s ear, “I saw it,” and he couldn’t help but think he saw the geodes in his eyes break, showing the crystals inside. There was so much energy, and enthusiasm that had just been released from Nagisa.

He’d nodded, glancing at Makoto-senpai and their captain had nodded as well; they’d achieved the level of focus, of drive, of fun that they’d needed.

Then the penny dropped. They were down to less than fifty metres. Haruka-sepai was still in the pool. Their calls were loud, unsure if it would reach him, but they shouted anyway. They hoped that he could see it too, that he was being guided toward the wall, by whatever he needed to carry him home. Whether it be colours, images or words, it didn’t matter. He just needed to make it. They needed to share their victory, their achievement, with or without a trophy. It didn’t matter. It never really mattered.

Rei understood now.

He understood everything, and because of that, he couldn’t stop crying.

Even after the events of the day were long gone, he and Nagisa-kun were still breaking down into tears on occasion. Their senpai had gone ahead, leaving them to mourn the reality of their situation. That was it. That was the last time.

It was a sight they’d never seen before. And a sight they’d never see again.

And so, while Makoto-senpai and Haruka-senpai went out to enjoy the end of their High School careers, the couple sat together in their hotel room, nestled together under one quilt on one of the beds, holding each other as they wept.


End file.
